


Hannah Little Faith in Me

by inRemote



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/F, Intimacy, Shamir does conflict resolution, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:41:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27743170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inRemote/pseuds/inRemote
Summary: A simple question escalates quickly as Shamir struggles to grasp diplomatic communication. Catherine gets fed up.
Relationships: Catherine/Shamir Nevrand
Comments: 2
Kudos: 41





	Hannah Little Faith in Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PirateQueenCatherine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PirateQueenCatherine/gifts).



> A wee trade with a pal! The title is a pun. Cause her name is Hannah. And she did a fic for me and it had my name in it as well. Comedy genius. She's very cool.
> 
> Enjoy some arguing!

“Hey, Shamir. You trust me, right?”

Shamir never betrayed any hint of surprise or confusion if she could avoid it, but Catherine had known her partner long enough to interpret the brief silence between them as much. In Shamir’s defence, the question had been somewhat unprompted. The two of them were huddled around a campfire where they had spent the past hour or so in complete silence. Currently, Shamir was preparing some foraged vegetables for cooking. Catherine was playing out battle scenarios in her head and wishing Thunderbrand needed sharpening so she could at least busy herself with a whetstone. 

Catherine was a doer. She liked to do things. Not doing things was how errant thoughts wormed their way into her head. And she wasn’t much for contemplation.

Shamir went back to skinning a particularly unpleasant looking root vegetable. “This is one of those questions where I give you an unsatisfactory answer and you take exception.”

Catherine balked. “You say that like it’s happened before!”

“It’s a recurring theme, Catherine. It’s exhausting.”

“Aw, come on, Shamir. You’re just avoiding the question. You’ll hurt my feelings.”

Shamir didn’t respond immediately, frowning and staring into the distance. It wasn't like her to simply ignore Catherine, but it certainly seemed that way right now. Well, Catherine wasn’t going anywhere. She had all the time in the world, at least for the next half hour or so when she would start cutting into valuable sleeping time. But until then, she would sit there and-

“Catherine, what does trust mean to you?”

Shamir’s face hadn’t moved an inch. She was still laser focused on nothing in particular. Catherine realised she had mistaken Shamir’s silence; it was one of contemplation. 

“You can’t just answer my question with another question.” Catherine protested.

Shamir finally turned to look at her, her gaze exacting. “I need to know what question you’re asking me.”

“It’s simple. Do you trust-”

“Trust,” Shamir echoed, cutting Catherine off, “is a word. A word for an abstract thing. The trust of a child is not the same as the trust of an elder. The trust of a fool is not the trust of a mercenary.”

“Hey now-”

“So tell me, Catherine. What does it mean for you to trust someone?”

The look in Shamir’s eyes demanded a proper response. Catherine forced herself to not blurt out the first thing that came to mind. She was in one of those uncomfortable situations where Shamir saw something deeper than she did, and she wasn’t one to let herself be outdone. She could trust just as good as Shamir. She could trust like a fucking champion.

“I guess it’s like… a comfort thing. Like, I would trust - I mean, uhm… you know, I’d expect any of the other knights to fight alongside me, you know? I know they’re on my side. But if I really trust someone, it’s like I know I can leave things to them without worrying? They’ll have my back. Pick up my slack. See things I don’t see. Tell me when I’m screwing up. Which I guess sounds bad? But it’s a comfort thing. Knowing I don’t need to worry about the things I don’t know about yet. ”

Shamir stared at Catherine throughout her monologue, stoic and unresponsive. She remained that way after Catherine had finished, not saying a word. As the silence dragged out, Catherine could feel herself getting more and more self-conscious as she returned Shamir’s stare.

Eventually, Shamir spoke. “Are you waiting for me to tell you if that was the right answer?”

And with that, Catherine’s patience broke. Her fist slammed into the dirt. “What the hell, Shamir? This didn’t have to be a big deal! It was just the preface to another question! I was going to ask you- I can’t even remember, something about cooking, but you’ve turned it into this whole thing where you’re an unrelenting, judgemental shitheel and I feel like a clown for trying to ask you a question that is clearly beneath you. Fuck you. I’m going to sleep. Wake me up when it’s my turn to watch.” 

Catherine stood, marched over to her sleeping furs, and lay down with her back very pointedly towards Shamir. She was aware she was being childish. But there was only so callous Shamir could be before it actually began to sting. She had a way of making Catherine feel naive in comparison. Most of the time it was fine. Apparently this time, it wasn’t. She heard a noise of exasperation from behind her. Fine. Let her sneer. Catherine still had her pride.

It was, of course, far too early to sleep. Shamir hadn’t even finished cooking. Catherine’s stomach was growling. The whole display was ridiculous. But backing down now would just be embarrassing. 

They managed five minutes of silence between them before one of them caved. And, for once, it wasn’t Catherine. The was the sound of agitated shifting and things falling to the dirt. Footsteps coming closer, and then suddenly the warmth of a body in proximity. Shamir was sitting behind her, back-to-back in a weird, socially-awkward upside-down T configuration. 

Shamir didn’t speak for another minute or so, but Catherine could tell she had something to say. They’d been partners long enough that Catherine could tell when a silence was meaningful. So she kept quiet, waiting for Shamir to find the words.

When she did, they were; “I was a bit hostile there.”

Catherine snorted, Shamir’s talent for understatement never failing to amaze her. “Yeah, no shit.”

Shamir stiffened for a moment, but continued undeterred. “It’s an important thing. To me, I mean. Trust is… a strange thing. It’s personal, and it’s different for everyone. We’ve all trusted different people in different ways, and we’ve all had that trust broken in different ways. I didn’t want you to treat it so flippantly.”

Catherine rolled over as much their position allowed, turning her head to look up at Shamir. Her partner was staring off into distance, and even from her awkward angle, she could tell there was something significant behind Shamir’s eyes.

“You know I’d never use that kind of word lighty, Shamir. I know you’ve had a hard time, but my life hasn’t exactly been sunshine and roses either. Give me a little credit sometimes, yeah?”

Shamir sighed, caught between humility and obstination. “I know. I didn’t mean to belittle you. I just… I wanted to make sure you understood that my trust isn’t so simple as a yes or no question. It’s more important to me than a throwaway remark.”

“I get that, Shamir. I do. But sometimes I’m just trying to make a joke about new recipes.”

“Considering your sense of humour, I might have saved you some embarrassment.”

“Sure, because you’re a regular court jester.”

The tension between them eased, and it was a while before they spoke again.

“I do trust you, Catherine.”

Catherine was taken aback by the sudden admission. She’d forgotten she’d actually asked the question. “...And what does that mean to you, exactly?”

She was mostly asking to entertain Shamir, but honestly, she was curious. It had been a throwaway question at first, sure, but the quiet intimacy that had set in lent the answer a certain weight. A weight that Catherine could swear she felt pressing in on her chest.

“It’s not something I could reduce to words. But…”

Shamir seemed to ponder something for a moment, before coming to a resolution. She stood, calmly walked a small semi-circle around Catherine’s head, and promptly dropped herself onto Catherine’s furs. She arranged herself with her back to Catherine, shifted backwards slightly. Reached behind her, grabbed Catherine’s hand in her own. Pulled it around her. Placed it against her beating heart.

“Better I show you.”

Catherine had no quips, no witty remarks to make. Words failed her. Physical intimacy was not something Shamir practised. It had taken Catherine a year to get her partner to even shake her hand. So by comparison, this was…

Right. Catherine felt the steady pulse of Shamir’s lifeblood beneath her hand. In a position like this, in Shamir’s blind spot, so close to her, she could so easily take that away. Better I show you.

She hadn’t realised someone so cold on the exterior could feel so warm. Catherine dared to squeeze Shamir a little tighter, a little closer, and found no resistance. The heat radiating from her. The smell of sweat lingering on her neck. The earthy scent of her hair, an inch away from Catherine’s face. She had been trusted with these. So she carefully, very carefully, indulged in them.

“You know we still haven’t had supper.” She mumbled into the back of Shamir’s neck.

Shamir’s response was curt. “I’ll move if you do.”

They went hungry.


End file.
